


Snowfall

by milosdinosaur



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Attempt at Humor, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier Always Says the Absolute Worst Thing He Could Possibly Say, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Erik is a Sweetheart, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hot Tub, M/M, School Trip, Smitten Erik, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sibling angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milosdinosaur/pseuds/milosdinosaur
Summary: Charles Xavier is truly a piece of work. Erik doesn’t think he’s met anyone as blindly optimistic.Too bad they're roommates for the upcoming school trip.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Raven | Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Raven | Mystique & Charles Xavier
Comments: 37
Kudos: 121
Collections: Secret Mutant Exchange 2019





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disequilibrium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disequilibrium/gifts).



> Dear disequilibrium,
> 
> Thank you so much for the prompt! Tonally, it’s quite different from what I’d usually write, but I had lots of fun jamming out to Christmas music while writing it. I tried to incorporate as many of your likes as possible. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> A big shout out to my beta  nosaur  for your constant support, feedback and encouragement. I couldn’t have done this without you.
> 
> Finally, three cheers for the mods who made this exchange possible!

Charles Xavier is truly a piece of work. Erik doesn’t think he’s met anyone as blindly optimistic. 

He still recalls their first-ever Mutant Studies class. Xavier had the naivety to assume that mutants and humans could one day get along peacefully. Everything about him was childlike, from his youthful demeanour to his open blue eyes. More than that, he had the arrogance to assume that he could foster improved relations between _homo superior_ and their lesser kin. 

Naturally, Erik dismissed his idea and bluntly told him his plans were disgustingly idealistic. However, Xavier refused to admit that he was wrong, believing that his claim was indisputable.

“My friend,” Xavier began. God, does he ever give up? Erik resisted the urge to grit his teeth. They were not friends. He had just met the man, and already he knew he was a starry-eyed fool.

“Mindsets aren’t static. History is packed with heartening examples. Just look at the Civil Rights Movement. It was revolutionary, and it doesn’t stop there. At present, women in Saudi Arabia are allowed to drive. Attitudes towards the LGBTQ community are becoming increasingly positive. It will take time, but both our past and current experiences all point to the fact that change is possible.” 

Erik smiles darkly. “You speak of change, but it will never be enough. The Rohingya refugee crisis. China’s repression of Uighurs in Xinjiang. Trump’s treatment of immigrants. Humanity is rife with hatred towards their own kind. They’re not going to be kinder to mutants. If there’s anything that history tells us, it’s that public opinion can turn overnight. Licenses can be revoked, laws have loopholes. More often than not, governments take one step forward and two steps back.” 

Xavier scrunched up his nose. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try at all.” 

“Prevention is better than cure.”

Their rapid-fire debate persisted until the end of class. Even now, in their second year of college, it hasn’t completely ceased. 

Erik shares a few other classes with Xavier, and he’s nowhere as insufferable as he is in Mutant Studies. No doubt, Xavier is intelligent, Erik often sees him nose deep in books, going up to their lecturers with questions, or patiently explaining difficult concepts to their weaker classmates. 

Xavier carries himself with an easy confidence. If anything, it’s almost… pleasant to have someone to match wits with. On better days, Erik would even say refreshing. Of course, all those remotely positive thoughts vanish the second they step into Mutant Studies, which at this point, is more a battleground than class. 

* * *

“Have you seen this?” Raven asked, waving a flyer in front of Erik. Already, looking at it made his eyes hurt. Whoever designed it clearly had no taste. It looked as if a child had smeared neon paint all over a sheet of paper, then proceed to fling all sorts of gunge over his pathetic masterpiece. 

_LET IT SNOW_

  
_Get into the holiday spirit with this fun-filled trip. Competitions, food and shopping, there’s something for everyone!_  
_For more details, please refer to the email sent out by the Student Council. Rooming lists will be out next week._  
In fine print, _“Trip is compulsory for all year 2 students.”_

Erik looks wearily at the vomit-inducing flyer. Growing up, his family had never celebrated Christmas. Not in the conventional sense. Although Erik doesn’t have anything against Christmas. He has some fond memories of that period. His family spent their time doing _mitzvot_ , volunteering at soup kitchens, which were usually short-handed because of the holiday season. His mama was always so proud of the fact that, even as a child, Erik readily embraced this tradition, happy to help where he could. As he became older, it grew into a way of proclaiming his identity in the face of seasonal marginality. 

When the roomings came out, Erik wasn’t surprised to hear that the graphic designer had been thoroughly insulted, then made redundant by none other than Emma Frost, vice-president of the Student Council. 

Erik scanned the list, looking for his name. Not believing his eyes, Erik forces himself to look over it again.

_Group 8:_  
_Raven Darkholme and Moira MacTaggert_  
_Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier_

* * *

  
Emma is frowning at her laptop when Erik finds her later that day. 

After a few beats, she looks up. “Erik. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You know why I’m here,” he says, not wasting time with pleasantries. “Pair me up with someone else.” 

Emma levels Erik a cool look, unimpressed.

“The groupings and rooming lists were generated randomly. I’m not making exceptions, even for you.” 

“Xavier thinks that college is some utopia where mutants can fraternise with humans.”

“You think _I_ want to spend time with humans? Still, inclusivity is the craze now.”

“You know what my views on _that_ are.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sugar, the entire student body has already heard about your domestic squabbles. Besides, Xavier is hardly human.” She pauses, considering. 

“Of course, if he is that repulsive, I may be able to work my magic. How does a room with Logan Howlett sound?” 

He glowers at her and she smiles sweetly at him, viciously triumphant. 

Later that day, he grumbles about it to Raven over the phone. 

“Did you honestly think Emma was going to change her mind? She’s just as stubborn as you.”

“Xavier is -”

“A hopeless case,” she finishes for him. 

“So you’ve mentioned,” she says with fond exasperation. “Come on, it could be worse. Charles isn’t that bad, you know.” 

“Charles? Since when were you two on a first-name basis?” 

“He’s my brother, Erik. We disagree sometimes and yes, he can be an overbearing pain, but we’ve,” she pauses, “come to accept our differences.” 

Erik very much doubts that. He still remembers his surprise at seeing Raven naked in his bedroom. He turned her down but allowed her to curl up in his sheets, sitting uselessly next to her while pretending not to hear her muffled sobs. Until this day, that was the only time he had ever seen Raven cry. 

He wondered whether she was trying to prove something to herself, him, or Xavier. He still doesn’t know the full story behind the explosive argument they had. He knows that hurtful remarks were exchanged and that the siblings haven’t quite been the same since. He also knows that he resents Xavier for reducing Raven to that state. For feeding the flicker of doubt on her face whenever someone compliments her mutation. 

“It’ll be fine. You’re spending three days together, not getting married.” 

“We have a human in our group.” Just the thought of it leaves an ugly taste in his mouth.

“A human. Singular. That’s not too bad. There are groups in which the human-mutant ratio is 1:1. In any case, Charles swears by Moira.” Erik hears rustling in the background, and he realises Raven must have already started packing for the trip.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to trust Xavier’s endorsement.” 

He can practically see Raven rolling her eyes. “Don’t be a baby, Erik. Look, I have to go. I’ll see you next Tuesday, okay?” 


	2. Day 1

Xavier smiles at Erik when he sees him. Erik tries to put as much distance as possible between them on the bus ride. But, the bus is pathetically small and he isn’t very successful. Erik does his best to ignore the contact, looking out the window, listening to music or watching a documentary about sharks on his phone. It doesn’t help. He can hear Xavier’s accented voice, talking to MacTaggert in the seat opposite them. Every little bump in the road causes their knees to bump.

After a torturous few hours, they arrive at the hotel. They’re greeted by their group leader. She’s wearing a neon-yellow pin badge that screams “CHLOE”. 

“I’ve been told you already know each other. But… A little birdie told me that there might be some friendship problems,” she says, injecting a pregnant pause in the middle of her statement. She speaks slowly, dragging her words and staring at Erik and Charles intently, as if they’re toddlers rather than college students. Erik sees Raven’s grimace and sympathises.

“Fortunately, we have a solution!” She exclaims, beckoning them to follow her to their rooms. Erik hopes they somehow managed to procure separate rooms for himself and Xavier. It’s a nice dream, but unlikely. 

Erik begins to unpack. He does a quick, habitual, sweep of the room with his powers. He makes out the knurled grab bars in the toilet, the rusty pipes running under the floorboards, and the small, heavy safe in their closet. No television, he notes. 

Satisfied, he looks around the room. The bed was covered with a blanket of hand-knitted squares of wool. In the middle, was a crudely designed, bright red -

“Is that… a dick?” Charles asks slowly.

“No, silly. It’s a heart! Symbolising the love that will eventually blossom between the two of you.” They’ve spent less than half an hour in Chloe’s presence but Erik already he wishes she would go away. 

“Your friendship blanket,” she announces with a manic grin. 

Erik stares at the blanket in despair. The phallic symbol is right smack in the middle of the blanket. He can’t tell if her reply is a joke. 

“Why is there only one bed?” 

“Bonding!” Erik wonders if this arrangement was intentional. Perhaps Emma had a hand in this, some twisted form of revenge. 

* * *

Group 8 had assembled at Chloe’s behest. They were, against Erik’s wishes, made to play board games for bonding. Of the few options available, Charles and Erik ended up playing chess. Erik was just grateful they didn’t have to play charades. 

As their games continue, it becomes clear that something about Xavier is off. He’s eerily silent. He smiles slowly, as if looking at Erik through syrup. He loses all three of their chess matches. Vaguely, Erik wonders if he’s falling ill. 

After Xavier loses the fourth match horribly, Erik puts down his pawn. 

It takes Xavier a few moments to even notice that Erik hadn’t moved his first piece. “Your turn.”

Erik can’t help feeling a bit stung, Xavier clearly wasn’t even trying. Was he really that bad a chess partner? 

“Xavier. What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t want to,” he makes vaguely waves his hand in Erik’s general direction. Even that simple movement seems to tire him. Erik regrets his harsh tone a few beats after Xavier’s response, he’s exhausted. As much as he enjoys chess, he’s not going to force Xavier to play when he clearly isn’t up to it. Before he opens his mouth, Xavier smiles apologetically at Erik, “I think I’ll turn in for tonight. Long day. I’ll see you later.” 

Erik watches his retreating form, subtly helping to steer Xavier’s wheelchair in the right direction. 

“Aw, did your BFF leave?” Chloe pouts at him. Erik wasn’t sure if she was intentionally trying to make her expression as comical as possible, or if she was legitimately grieved by that fact.

“We can’t have him alone, can we? Go on,” she punctuates the last few words with two forceful, over-enthusiastic slaps to his back. Erik gets up immediately without replying, irked by the intrusive touch. 

Xavier doesn’t respond when Erik opens the door to their room. Erik takes a careful seat on the bed. It’s hard to make out Xavier’s features in the dimmed lighting. He’s silent for so long that Erik begins to wonder if he’s asleep. 

“Raven doesn’t like it,” Xavier says softly into the darkness. “Like what?” 

“My,” Xavier drags one finger onto his temple. 

Erik’s voice doesn’t waver despite the creeping sense repulsion that accompanies his growing apprehension of the situation. 

“When I say mutants shouldn’t have to hide their powers, that means all mutants.” 

With sluggish movements, Xavier sits up. Erik feels tentative fingers at his temple. Bleakly, he realises they’re trembling. Xavier has been deprived for too long. Erik won’t deny him the contact. 

“It’s alright, Charles.” 

Charles plunges in. He feels like he’s stepping out of a stuffy room. Everything that was muted now gushes in, vital and vivid. He releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Erik’s mind is wonderful. Entering it is like sinking his fingers into cool water. Erik feels everything deeply. His good opinion, once lost is lost forever. The converse, Charles learns, is also true. There are buried treasures, crystallized memories, wrapped carefully in cloth. They glow, promising light like the careful undressing of a lover. Erik guards them fiercely. 

Charles could gorge himself, spending days wandering through every nook and cranny of Erik’s mind. But he reins himself in, careful not to intrude, no matter how lovely Erik’s mind is. 

“Mind you, Raven never forced me to do anything. I just try to... tone down my telepathy out of consideration for her, as well as others. I didn’t want to intrude, especially since we’re going to be spending so much time together.” 

“We share quite a few classes together,” Erik says, waiting for an explanation. 

“Yes, well. When I’m extremely tired, I tend to...” Xavier pauses. “Have lowered inhibitions. I try to make sure my shields are stronger, but it’s not always easy. If done for prolonged periods of time I can get a little spaced out.”

Indignation flares. Erik can’t believe Raven would knowingly ask her own brother to suppress his mutation. Mutations are a part of them. Severing that portion of yourself is as good as being blindfolded, or gagged. Deplorable. He resolves to bring the matter up with Raven later. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Xavier says, looking at Erik with his ridiculously blue eyes.

Erik had come across copies of people who tried to win him over him plastic smiles, and honeyed words. Like animated mannequins. Xavier could not be more different. He had none of that, sounding nothing but earnestly grateful. Either that or he was a very good actor. 

Erik tries to distract himself. “At least we got away from Chloe.” 

“Erik! She’s trying her best.”

“Key word being trying.” 

'You are _awful_.” Charles admonishes, though a smile plays on his lips.

Erik returns his smile. “I’ve been told.” 

The night has tried Erik. He turns, about to grab his clothes and head to the shower. 

"Before you go, Erik, one more thing.” Xavier’s fingers are warm against his. “Call me Charles.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you spot the Mr Darcy quote. I see you Charles, already associating Erik with a Byronic hero.
> 
> Bonus bonus: Valentine! Although that one was more of an indulgence on my part.


	3. Day 2

When he sees her the next day, Raven greets Erik with an impish smile plastered onto her face. She lowers her voice conspiratorially and asks, “Did the friendship blanket work?”

He rolls his eyes. Thankfully, Chloe’s appearance saves him from having to respond. 

“Good morning Group 8! I hope you got a good night’s sleep.” Chloe is far too enthusiastic for this hour of the morning. 

“Today’s exciting task is to purchase 4 items from the Winter Village. Something soft, something sweet, something red and something rare.”

It sounds deceptively simple. Erik isn’t surprised when she continues, “Remember, it has to be completed as a group. Since you’ll be spending the next two days together, you’ll be exploring the village with your roommate! After you finish your tasks for the day, you’re free to roam around.” 

He sighs, resolving to get the task done as quickly as possible. 

* * *

The village looked like a Christmas card; the shops were all dusted with a layer of crisp snow. There were holly, winterberry and cotton wreaths on storefronts and strings of twinkling lights hanging in the trees, the splashes of colour a nice contrast to the land dominated by brown and white. 

Charles mentally steels himself. Using his wheelchair in the snow has never been easy. To his surprise, it rises by the tiniest bit, hovering inconspicuously, frictionlessly gliding across the snow, in line with Erik’s long strides. 

“I’m paraplegic, not a marionette you can bob up and down,” Charles says, trying to sound stern, but it’s hard when he can feel Erik’s powers curling ever so gently around his wheelchair. 

“Stop complaining.” Erik counters, though he doesn’t threaten to put him down. 

They go into a candy store and are greeted by walls plastered with jelly beans, candy canes, and gummy bears that span across the store. 

“I couldn’t help but notice the telltale presence of pink and blue gumballs weaved into the garland,” Charles says to the owner, Mr Jamison, and he lights up. He grins and boasts about the history of his shop, even insisting on giving them a personal tour. 

They leave the store with bags brimming with sweets. Erik’s quite sure they paid less than the listed price, but Mr Jamison seemed more than happy to give them a discount. Not for the first time during their trip, Erik wonders if other than telepathy, Charles has the uncanny ability to make people like him. 

They both purchased something for Raven. Erik suspects Charles got a bar of chocolate for Moira. Of course, he would. 

Each store had its own particular festive accoutrement, mesmerising in its own right. Erik’s favourite had to be the clothing shop they passed, which had a wreath composed entirely out of balls of yarn, alternating in green and red. Not for its originality, although he had to admit he had never seen anything like it, but because of the big, almost dorky grin it put on Charles’s face when he saw it. 

“You know, Mr Jamison mentioned a small library. It sounds lovely,” Charles comments.

“We can go later,” Erik promises. 

A bell tinkles merrily as they push open the door. Sweeping through the rows of clothes, Erik’s eyes land on a light blue scarf and pair of jeans. He picks it up and automatically starts to move towards the cashier, making sure Charles is never left behind.

“You must try it on before you buy it!” The store owner objects. 

Erik sighs, resigned to his fate. He walks into the fitting room, making quick work of changing into the outfit. 

When Erik stepped out, Charles almost swallows his tongue. 

Erik scowls. “It doesn’t matter if it’s bad, let’s just buy something and get on with it.” 

“No,” Charles says firmly. “Trust me, Erik. You look… really good.” Charles bites his lip as he gazed at Erik admiringly. 

Noticing that the collar of Erik’s shirt had been twisted in his haste to put on the scarf, Charles gestures for Erik to take a seat on the bench in front of the changing room. 

“If I may...” 

Ignoring the heat on his cheeks, Erik nods at Charles. Charles gently shifts his hands to fix it. His fingers accidentally brush against the nape of Erik’s neck. 

“We should get going,” Erik’s voice comes out hoarse. 

“I’ll pay,” Charles offers, meeting his eyes. They’re a lighter blue than he remembers. Erik catches himself and looks away, feeling horribly exposed. 

They head back to their room to drop off their purchases. 

Charles scrutinises his new red socks, a gift from Raven and Moira. He leans forward and runs his fingers over the material, looking delighted at his findings. Erik does not find it adorable. Absolutely not.

“They’re groovy, don’t you think?” Charles asks, completely serious.

Erik couldn’t help it - he laughs. Charles smiles, pleasantly surprised by the sound. Of course he knew, in theory, that Erik was capable of laughing, everyone was. Actually hearing it was another thing entirely. His laughter was nothing like Charles expected it to be. It was warm and slow, reminding Charles of honey. 

By unspoken agreement, they head back to the Winter Village after dinner. Unencumbered by time, they ambled around the village, simply soaking in the atmosphere. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the town square. Children flocked around it, delighting in being illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight. 

The icy wind gnaws at Charles’s neck, running the mood. Charles curses as he realises that, in his excitement, he left his scarf in their room. He feels the cold wash over him, again and again. He’s tempted to seek refuge in a nearby store, but he’s quite sure the library is only a few minutes away. He tries his best to ignore the incessant shivering. 

Wordlessly, Erik removes his scarf. He holds it out to Charles. 

Charles looks at him, surprised. He sends out a silent inquiry: _How could you tell?_

“I can feel movement on your chair,” Erik responds. 

Charles feels embarrassed for a fleeting moment, but Erik’s tone wasn’t mocking. He was simply stating a fact. 

“Oh, Erik I couldn’t.” 

“You’ll be no use to us if you freeze. I can pull my collar up.” 

Charles still looks reluctant. Erik wonders why he insists on being noble at the worst possible times.

“Charles.” He presses the scarf into his hands. 

“Alright.” The scarf is the same shade of blue as Charles’s eyes. It looks much better on Charles than it does on himself. After their brief stop, they continue their journey. If they both stood a little too close to the other person, it was only because they were afraid of getting separated. 

The library was easy to miss, nestled right next to a tavern that was teeming with people. 

“Look,” Erik gestures to the wreath hanging outside the library. It was punctuated with white flowers. He frowned. Smudges of black dotted the flowers, quite a few of the flowers seemed to have been stained. However, upon closer inspection, Charles realised that they weren’t ordinary flowers. Bunches of book pages had been folded and transformed into flowers, with bells affixed to their middles. 

They orbit each other, dancing around the library. They drift apart, but always come back to show the other an interesting passage or critique each other’s choice of books. They find they have a common love for _The Once and Future King,_ and spend much of their time having a debate about the book in heated whispers. There was row after row of books with their spines facing outwards. Those books would normally have been Erik's sole focus, but there was something mesmerising about Charles. A glance, touch or small comment would demand all of his attention. 

_Oh._


	4. Day 3

After spending two nights together, Erik can tell Charles is a heavy-sleeper. He sleeps like an infant, falling asleep almost instantaneously and waking at a leisurely pace. 

Charles’s hair is a mess of rumpled curls in the morning, more level on one end where his face was pressed against the pillow. It’s more endearing than it has any right to be, and Erik has to quash the absurd urge to smoothen it out. 

Tearing his eyes away from Charles, Erik heads to the bathroom with silent steps, careful not to wake him up.

* * *

“What’s up with you and Charles?” Raven sounds innocently curious but Erik knows her too well to let his guard down. 

They were buying ingredients for the day’s activity. Chloe had tearfully informed them of their last task - baking a log cake. It was then Erik found out that Charles and Raven couldn’t cook to save their lives. Charles didn’t even know how to turn on the oven, although he was eager to learn, peering intently at MacTaggert as she preheated the oven. Meanwhile, Erik moved around their station, taking stock of the ingredients they would need. 

Erik admired his enthusiasm, but acknowledged that it was a little too late to make much progress. That was how he ended up being forced to bake with MacTaggert, while Charles and Raven were tasked with the most important roles, supporters. 

“Nothing.” He takes a bottle of vanilla essence of the self a little too quickly. 

“Really?” 

Erik pointedly ignores her.

“What, exactly, happened between the two of you?” He asks after a beat. 

Raven is silent for a moment, taken aback by his question. 

“We disagreed. I told him to stay out of my head.” 

“You know I don’t agree with the way he treated you, but have you ever thought about this from his point of view?” 

“He controlled enough of my life, I didn’t want him policing my thoughts as well. Since when did you become his champion?” 

“Telepathy is as natural as breathing to him. Asking him to suppress it - ”

“I didn’t.” The statement is a declaration, said with a mulish expression. 

“If you want Charles so much, you can have him, Erik.” She looks at him defiantly, but Erik can detect a hint of hurt beneath her biting tone. 

She takes a deep breath. “Come on, we have a deadline to meet.” 

* * *

“Look, Lehnsherr. I know you don’t like me. But could you put aside your grudge for an hour?” Of all the things on Erik’s mind at the moment, Moira MacTaggert was the least important. 

Erik gave her a brisk nod, willing her to go away. He tries not to think about his earlier conversation with Raven. For now, he has to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Charles and Raven found themselves sitting in an air-conditioned kitchen in the hotel, watching the candidates set up their stations. There were approximately twenty of them laying out and checking equipment and ingredients at little work counters. 

His eyes settled on Erik. His thoughts were unsettled, but it was masked so well under a veneer of calmness that it was impossible to tell from his actions alone. He was cracking eggs into a bowl, nifty whisking sugar and butter, while Moira was wiping the grease onto the tray, sifting cocoa powder, and piping frosting into a bag. To his relief, they worked seamlessly together, like two cogs in a wheel, seamlessly combining a myriad of ingredients that couldn’t be more different. They seemed to be lost to the world, completely immersed in theirs. He shouldn’t have worried. Erik and Moira have seemed to come to a truce. If there’s anything Moira and Erik have in common, it’s the ability to carry tasks out with the utmost focus and efficiency. 

Charles tried his best to watch the procedure, but Raven was thinking very loudly. Charles couldn’t help but pick up on her surface emotions: anger, sadness and worry. All revolving around the same person who occupied more of his thoughts than he’d like to admit - Erik. Charles couldn’t tune them out no matter how hard he tried.

“Raven…” he pauses. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not the only one affected by your disagreement. You must know that your emotions are mirrored in Erik. He’s just as upset as you are,” Charles offers, trying to raise her spirits, even by the smallest bit. 

“Get. Out.” She hisses. 

Charles slams his shields into place, wounded. He was just trying to help. If anything, his hurt expression only seems to fuel her anger. 

“You have everything, don’t you Charles? You look normal. You’re on your way to doing your doctorate. You even have Erik now. Yet, you’re still trying to control me. My thoughts aren’t even my own.” 

“I never -” 

She doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. “Save it.” 

“Raven, I don’t want to come between you and Erik.” She doesn’t respond to that. By now Charles knows better than to try and read her mind. There was a time when he would have taken her hand, but Charles doesn’t know if it’ll be welcome anymore. He doesn’t try. 

Neither of them speaks as they watch the rest of the proceedings. The silence is deafening. Charles is almost grateful for the bell when it goes off, signalling the end of the task. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t kill each other,” Raven says, shooting Charles a small smile. It’s a start. 

“Looks like there’s still hope for our group.” His tone is light, but the statement hangs between them for a heavy moment. 

By now, the air wafted with all kinds of nice smells. With no small amount of satisfaction, Moira unveiled their creation, a red velvet log cake stuffed with chocolate and slathered in fresh cream cheese. Erik, on the other hand, no longer had a task to distract himself and looked sullen. Charles didn’t want to give Erik any empty expectations, but he did send him his mixed feelings when he received Raven’s olive branch. Mostly gratitude, trepidation and a tinge of bitterness. 

Erik meets his eyes from across the room. His mental prod had the intended effect, Erik’s mood seemed to have lightened. He had a neutral expression on his face. Charles nods at him. 

“It looks heavenly. My compliments to the chefs.” Charles says, smiling at Moira and Erik as he takes a bite.

The taste of chocolate bursts as it melts, leaving a pleasant buzz in his mouth. Charles gently rolls it over using his tongue, savouring the flavour. He lets out a contented sigh. 

Erik tries vainly not to stare. There’s a bit of cream smeared on Charles’s lower lip, and he sucks it off intently. _Mein Gott_. What an exquisite way to die. 

Nighttime found Charles and Erik exploring the hotel. Grey cobblestones paved a narrow, meandering path through the greenery. They had traced the tinkling sound of splashing water to a hot tub and were now sitting at the edge of it, legs immersed in the warm, comforting water. By now, the sky was as an inky canvas of stars. 

“It is our last night. Why waste the opportunity?” Charles’s tone was playful as he nudged his shoulder against Erik’s. 

Charles saw Erik’s eyes dart up and down his frame as he peeled off his shirt. He smiles, enjoying the attention.

The water nearly singed his skin as Charles submerged, careful to make sure his legs were arranged in the proper position. 

“Coming?” 

Erik entered slowly, almost hesitantly. If Charles didn’t know better, he would say Erik was afraid of getting burnt. They sat at opposite ends of the hot tub. Erik sat so stiffly that he gave off the impression of being a particularly strict schoolmistress. 

Charles smiled at the mental image. 

Erik raises an eyebrow. “Something amusing, Charles?” 

Charles grins, shuffling a step closer. “The point of a hot tub is to relax, you know.” 

Charles moves another inch closer as if pulled by an invisible string. 

If Erik notices what he’s doing, he doesn’t comment. Charles knows Erik won’t be shy about making his displeasure known. Charles moves once again. Erik’s back was now aligned with the edge of the tub. Charles could go forward no further. 

“Hi,” Charles whispers, suddenly breathless. They sit in comfortable silence. 

Erik brushes his fingers against Charles’s dark locks, damp with steam. Erik studies his face steadily and intently, his gaze reverent. 

“Beautiful,” Erik murmurs. 

Charles moves his head closer to Erik. He leans in, so their foreheads rest against each other’s. Both their breaths are shaky. 

“Charles,” Erik whispers slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savour it. Charles smiles, never before has his name sounded so wonderful. Charles pressed their lips together and the world fell away. Charles's delight unfurled in Erik's mind. It was slow and soft, like a sunrise. Erik’s hand rested below his ear, thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled. Charles ran his fingers over Erik’s spine, pulling them closer until there was no space left between them and Charles could feel the beating of his heart against his chest. 

They tumble back to their room, intoxicated with each other. 

The next day, they discover that the grab bars in the toilet have liquified. A flash of shame passes through Erik. Stupid, to have lost control of his powers like that. And then the corners of Charles's lips tilt up into a smile. It's not mocking but warm with delight, with a hint of cockiness that wouldn't be charming on anyone but Charles. Unexpected warmth rushes through Erik. Maybe it's not so bad. 


	5. After

A few weeks after their trip, Raven waltzed into his room and plopped a brown package onto Erik’s lap. He looks at it, puzzled, but carefully keeping his face neutral. 

“Go ahead,” Raven says expectantly. Erik has a bad feeling about this. She has the same look on her face Charles adopts when he’s trying to be discreet. 

He tears open the package, revealing an exact replica of the friendship blanket. Erik’s almost impressed, it’s identical, from the gaudy red dick to the confused mix of multi-coloured patches of wool. 

“I thought you’d appreciate it. Your friendship blanket. Although, I might start calling it the baby maker,” she says with a wicked smile on her face. 

In hindsight, Erik should probably have expected something similar. After that day in the grocery store, Raven had been suspiciously silent on his relationship with Charles. He wonders if this is Raven’s way of showing her approval. 

“I got one for Charles too,” she adds while making a beeline for his fridge. She opens a can of soda. Erik’s never been one for energy-restoring, sugary drinks. They’re a luxury he only rarely indulges in, but he keeps his fridge stocked for Raven and, now, Charles. 

“Oh god, you’re thinking about him again.” Raven groans.

“Am not.” 

“You get this _look_ on your face.” She pulls a face in mock disgust, then turns serious. 

“Look, I’m not your mother. I won’t dictate who you can date.” Voice softening, she says, “If that’s what you really want, then I’m happy for you. Both of you.” 

She puts down the can and wraps an arm around his shoulder. The hug was a simple enough gesture. Gentle, giving him enough space to breathe. He reciprocates, tightening his arms a fraction around her familiar frame. 

He shows Charles the blanket over coffee the next day. Well, coffee for Erik and tea for Charles. You can take a man from Britain, but you can’t take Britain from the man. Still, Erik remembers to get 2 sugars and creamer for Charles, just the way he likes it. 

They’re at a cafe, sitting in seats Charles has affectionately come to recognise as _theirs_. It’s become part of their daily routine. They meet up, occasionally bickering, occasionally studying and occasionally chatting, but always revelling in the company of the other person. 

The first time they were there, Erik unearthed a chess set hidden in one of the shelves, sensing the lead and zinc alloy used in the weighted chess pieces. They shared a knowing smile. One game grew into two, and two grew into three. Before they knew it, hours had flown by and they were being chased out of their seats by an annoyed member of staff. They rushed out of the store, delirious with mirth. 

At present, Charles reaches across the table and intertwines their fingers. After all this time, Erik still marvels at how impossibly soft his hands are. Unmarked by physical labour or hardship. Erik wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you, darling,” he says, pressing a kiss to Erik’s wrist. Charles doesn’t specify what he’s thanking Erik for, but he doesn’t need to. He gets flashes of people parting, pulled away by spare change or keys in their pockets, clearing a pathway for Charles’s chair, which glides smoothly across the gravel as they made their way towards the cafe. 

“They should have moved on their own accord,” Erik grumbles, but it comes out less harsh than he intended. It’s hard to stay mad, with Charles’s warm gratitude blooming in his mind. 

A flash of white catches Erik’s eye. He looks up, meeting Emma’s eyes from across the street. She looks at their joined hands and smirks at Erik. He squeezes Charles’s hand and stares back, unfazed. Charles notices Emma and smiles, as if he were genuinely happy to see her. Emma doesn’t exactly smile back, but her expression softens ever so slightly. Charles truly was a wonder.

Erik watched as the snow patiently drifts across Charles’s face, captivated by the soft, dusty pieces which sat on his eyelashes. How odd it was to look at him, so familiar yet so different. 

They still argue loudly and vehemently during Mutant Studies. Erik doubts their views on integration will ever be congruent. As much as it infuriates him, Charles wouldn’t be Charles if he weren’t so damn stubborn. Despite that, Erik has never felt more complete. He doesn’t think he can ever describe the tumble of emotions in his chest whenever he looks at Charles. 

Were they ever strangers? Erik isn’t sure. The first day he saw him, there was something there, a form of connection, bright and volatile. He supposes neither of them recognised it for what it was. At times it scares him, how attached he’s become. He aches to be with Charles, to look at him, to touch him, to whisper _liebling_ into his skin. However, it was slightly reassuring to know that he occupied just as much of Charles's world. In this, they were equals. 

Charles Xavier is truly a piece of work. His eagerness to find good in people only just about matches his ability to. Erik doesn’t think he’s met anyone as blindly optimistic. Anyone _better_. 


End file.
